Long time no see

~ Chapter 3 ~

"Allen?" Andrew asked in shock, widening his eyes. "Is that really you?" He mumbled. I didn't know what to do I was so shaken up; who was this man? I took a step back, continuing to look at him, but my facial expression was locked. "How do you know my name?" I asked, touching the stall door. His hand lifted up as to touch me, and I looked at it with defense. "It's me, Andrew Baker.." he replied, slowly walking towards me again. "My boss?" I asked, nearly touching the back wall. He abruptly stopped, and looked into my eyes. They were cold, not with bitterness, but pain; the type of reflection a wounded animal shows in their eyes when cornered. "You don't remember me?" He spoke, straightening his posture and frowning. I looked at him with confused and fearful eyes and shook my head. "I read in a news article that you're our new head boss, congratulations," I said, forcing a smile. Part of me knew that I could be in deep trouble speaking informally with him, but something about him felt off, and I really couldn't tell what it was. I took my hands off of the side of the wall, and brought them to my side, attempting to reassure him that I was not frightened, even though it was a lie. "Perhaps you have the wrong Allen, Mr. Baker?" I asked. "My name is Allen James, and I belong to group C as the manager," I spoke, hoping it was a simple misunderstanding. He shook his head and looked down. "So you have forgotten," he whispered. He looked devastated, and I no longer felt fear, but remorse for him. "All those years in our childhood..?" He asked, looking back up at me. I've never met this man before in my life, but something about him still seemed extremely familiar; what was it exactly? I bowed my head, folding my hands together, "I apologize Mr. Baker, but I really think yo-" He cut me off by grabbing my arm, and wrapping me into a tight hug. What was going on? I thought. I gave him a harsh pat on the back, but even after that he didn't let go. I was starting to feel weirded out again, and I pried my hands against his shoulders, cupping them, and pushing outwards, but he didn't let go, and started crying. "Allen..our whole childhood was together, up until we turned eighteen.." He whimpered. I didn't know what to do at this point, so I just stood there letting it happen, but part of my heart ached with him. "I don't remember much before my eighteenth birthday," I finally said, letting my arms drape besides me. "All I know is nothing really mattered back then, and now, the only thing that matters to me is my job," I spoke. Andrew stopped shaking for a moment, and the next time I saw his face, his eyes were wet, but emotionally barren. That was the moment he realized that he must've been confused, because he stood back up straight, wiped his tears, bowed down, apologized to me, and then left without another word. I was still completely shaken up, confused on what just happened, but I wasn't going to try and analyze it too much at work, or it would end up ruining my productivity. I ended up tidying my outfit instead, fixing my tie, and then leaving back for my office once I was done, a little more relaxed. Three more hours of work until I could go home; I could make it. When I got back, the men were still crowded in a circle, but Mr. Baker was no where to be seen; which kind of reassured me. I looked across the room, searching for him, but I ended up laying my eyes on Brian instead. He was now back at his desk, drinking from a wine glass, viciously typing on his computer, and creating a document that seemed to look like a news article. I sat down next to him in an empty chair, sighing deeply, and peering over at his screen. "What are you writing Brian?" I asked, placing a hand on his chair. He stopped typing for a moment, and then turned to me, bags starting to form under his eyes. "I'm writing an article about J-Tec, and the founder, Joseph Baker, for the new magazine that's going to be printed and sent here within a month," he answered. "The men in suits over there gave me a chance to make a few extra bucks by writing it, and I'd be silly to not take it." He mumbled, looking groggily up at me. it would probably be best to tell him some other time about my encounter in the bathroom, especially because he seemed exhausted. "What time even is it, Allen?" He asked, pushing his chair a little away from his desk and rubbing his face. I looked down at my watch; it was five thirty. "Two and a half hours left, Brian," I replied. "Want me to go grab you a coffee?" He nodded his head pouting. He was usually never this tired before seven, but he must of had a rough time sleeping the previous night. I gave him a pat on the back, reassuring him, and walked over to the stairway exit. As far as I knew, no one set up a coffee pot in our room, so we had to travel to the main floor to grab some if we so desired. It was annoying, but it allowed me to stretch my legs that repurposed their function to stay idle all day, even if I drank hardly three forth's the amount of coffee Brian did. With the same push, and metal clink, I was back in the stairwell room, and I made my way down them once again, but this time not for a smoke. Instead of turning right to a little exit door off of our building, I opened the door left of me to the lobby. It was an extremely spacious room, well decorated, full of fake plants, and areas to sit, but It was a shame it was hardly ever touched. S&K Publishing consisted of three high rise buildings, a warehouse, and plenty of other minor component buildings, but the main "hotspot" for our business was building number one. Brian and I were positioned at building three for a more low maintenance area to work in, but it got lonely sometimes with the same crew. "If I remember correctly, the coffee pot was near the front desk, up against the wall," I mumbled to myself, looking around. I almost instantly spotted it, and it was located in the exact place I had mentioned. I made my way over to it, my shoes echoing on the floor, and examined it. The light was on, but after grabbing a cup and attempting to pour some in, I realized that it was empty. I let out a sigh, and looked left and right around the room. The lights were off, making it look somewhat eerie, but it was always like that on Sunday. Unlike most companies, ours valued the weekend, and often on Saturday and Sunday, the more "relaxed" buildings would be free to work lightly. We still had the same amount of hours though, ten A.M to eight P.M, but the work was usually pretty scarce anyway. On the table with the coffee pot, there was a half empty bag curled up to the left of it, and I grabbed it. Part of me didn't really even want to put on a new brew, because it took too long, filling the pot with water and everything, but I'd feel bad for Brian. What about canned coffee? I said to myself. Surely we had a vending machine, right? I turned around to look back at the stairwell, and then back at the bag. I set it back down on the table, and making my way back to the stairwell, my heart froze. I hadn't realized it, but by turning around, a body laying on a empty couch had come into my line of sight. They were dressed in full a black suit, for as far as I could see, and tightly curled into a couch pillow. From the structure of their body, they looked like a man, but with the way they were laying, I couldn't tell. What should I do? I asked my conscious. Every inch in my body was pulling me back from wandering over to them, but somehow I did anyway. Before I even knew it, my hands were touching the back of the couch, and I was looking down at the black figure sprawled across it. I lowered my face down a little farther to get a better view, and upon closer inspection, I realized that they had brown short hair, similar to mine, and a much broader suit compared to that of a women's, making me suspect that it was a man. 'Don't get any crazy ideas, Allen,' I recited in my head, standing back up straight, but that didn't seem to change anything. I reached out my pointer finger, and with one gentle tap, I sunk behind the couch, waiting for a stir; but nothing happened. I peeked back over the couch, and the person had not even moved an inch, let alone seemed to breathe. I stood there for a moment, confused, yet utterly terrified, and still going entirely against my will, I walked around the couch to face them. Surely I have lost my mind? I squatted down to the floor, keeping somewhat of a distance, but close enough to study their features. They were either sleeping or passed out, because the color was still decently in their face, but that was the moment I'd realized something even more nerve wracking than before; it was Mr. Baker. What was he doing down here? I shuffled to my feet as quick as I could, and I brought my fingers down to his neck. His pulse was still there, and I was instantly relieved, but why was he laying on the couch? It took some courage, now knowing who it was to wake him up, but to no avail, I stuck my hand onto his back and shook gently. "Mr. Baker?" I said, shaking him. He didn't stir at all, so I decided to shake him a little harder, using more force this time. "Mr. Baker?" I asked again, raising my voice. He still didn't wake, and I was starting to get a little concerned. After a few more tries, he finally began to move, and taking my hand off of him, I moved back slowly. His eyes opened groggily, and he turned to look at me. "Mr. Baker, are you alright?" I asked, somewhat nervous. He blinked a few times, removing his hands from beneath his head, and propped himself up against the arm. He sat on the couch, still for a moment, and then yawned. This was a completely different person than I had met an hour ago. He never seemed like the type of person to be off his game; or so I thought. He brought his hands up to his face, rubbed over his eyes, and sighed. "Sorry, Allen," "I didn't mean for you to see me off duty like this," he mumbled. Why was he being so informal with me? "I've just pulled an all-nighter, going to and from the different buildings, and acquainting with the staff." "I needed to sleep, or I was going to pass out," he said, leaning forward, and giving my arm a gentle pat. "Thanks for checking up on me, I appreciate it," he said smiling. Part of me felt guilty because I didn't even know he was down here, let alone was I searching for him; but I smiled back, returning the favor in the best way. He sat back on the couch, yawning again, and dug his hand into his pant pocket. He pulled out a sleek black phone, and checked it meticulously, as if waiting for a phone call. I decided that this would be my ticket out of the awkward situation, and bowing respectfully, I walked away. I figured he'd be too busy with his call to care that I had left, but that wasn't the case. "Allen?" "Where are you going?" He called from behind me, his footsteps thundering. I turned around to face him, anxious, but hesitant. "Mr. Baker, I must return to my office now," "My co-worker Brian will be worried," I replied. He reached out, grabbing my hand, and pulled it towards him. "Allen, please stay," he pleaded. At this point, I didn't know what to do. My new boss had mistaken me for a childhood friend, one that he had truly cared about, but something about the whole situation was starting to startle me. "Mr. Baker," I started, "I respect you, but this Allen that you speak of, isn't me," I said, attempting to pull my arm away, but he gripped it tighter, and kept me locked in the same spot. "For your twelfth birthday, we rode our bikes to the nearest park, and flew kites," he spoke, sternly. His gaze turned from one of pleading, to one of ice. I didn't know what he was talking about; but somehow the idea felt vaguely familiar. "We went to elementary, intermediate, and high school together, in Baltimore," he continued. "You met me out on the playground, building a sand castle at six years old," his voice started breaking. I felt a terrible amount of guilt, and stood there silent, closing my eyes. "B-Before.. my..eighteenth birthday.." He choked up, clenching his fist, "You..gave me the world's greatest treasure.." He said, grabbing my hands, and holding them up to his face. "Allen Richard James," he weeped, "What happened to you?" I sat there in sadness, wondering what had happened to myself just as much as he had, but nothing before my eighteenth birthday came to mind. Who even was I anymore?